cover for him tonight?”
A guilty look to his right, into the dark study. “Judy, I’d like to, really, but I’ve got a commission on the board that’s due Tuesday. And then there’s that new house for the guy over in Branchville. If I don’t finish that one pretty soon, his wife is going to have him out on his ear.”
“So? You’ve got the weekend, right?”
“Judy, I haven’t even started Tuesday’s project yet. In fact, I’m seriously beginning to wish I’d never taken it on in the first place. It’s probably going to be a waste of time.”
He could hear sounds behind her voice: tinny laughter, tinny country music from the jukebox overlaid with conversation turned babble by the number of the Depot’s early customers.
He could sense her disappointment, yet he knew that if he put off working tonight he wouldn’t get to it until Sunday. He wasn’t in danger of starving by any means, but neither was his portfolio so fat or his reputation so secure that he could afford to antagonize new contacts or customers.
“Douglas?”
A little girl’s voice, pleading and grinning. A shameless tactic she used whenever she felt him wavering, and a tactic he didn’t mind because two years ago he had decided it was possible for him to fall in love again, and Judy was one of the women he felt strongly about. One of two. After so many years, suddenly there were two. Judy had been polite and aloof, accepting his clumsy advances with good humor, and no solid rejection; then, abruptly, two weeks ago, she began making sly jokes about harnesses and yokes and rings through men’s noses.
He hadn’t questioned her turnabout, but it had started him thinking twice about what he was doing.
Because the other woman was Liz Egan, and his emotional confusion only doubled when he found himself thinking about her, a state that was increasingly hard to ignore.
He cleared his throat. “It’s important, this job, Judy.”
“Please?”
Another glance over his shoulder—the empty house, the wind. Maggie slicing the air.
“Damn your ass, Douglas Muir, if you—”
“Of course,” he said quickly, “it is only an addition. One of those solar greenhouse things for some judge over in Newton.”
“Right.”
He crossed his legs at the ankles, stretched an arm along the couch’s back and tapped a finger on the wood trim. “I mean, I guess I could let it go until tomorrow.”
A pause. “Right.”
He held out his arm and stared at the mouthpiece, then pulled it back and frowned. “Judy, is something wrong?”
“I told you,” she said with a quiet, nervous laugh. “Well, I guess I’m a little on edge, too.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, remembering, and feeling a sympathetic twinge along his left leg. “That wind was enough to jar anyone’s teeth. I thought for a minute there Maggie was going to light out for Canada.”
“Wind? What wind? Doug, what are you talking about?”
“What . . . ?” He pointed to the window as if she could see him, dropped his hand and shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Hey, are you all right?”
“Yeah, sure. I think the pressure must be getting to me. Presidents can’t hold a candle to architects with customers who have angry wives.”
She laughed, cut herself off and asked him once again if he wouldn’t please, please fill in for Casey tonight before she went crazy and burned the place down.
“I guess,” he said. “Sure.”
“I know I’m asking a lot, but he’s acting up, real weird lately, and I’ve only got two hands, y’know? My god, you’d think he’d know better, today of all days.”
“Judy, I said I’d come, okay?”
“I tell you, Doug, that man oughta be shot, he makes me so mad. If he wasn’t so big, I’d chop him to pieces.”
Then he knew: another boyfriend had been lost in making sure Doug was the one she actually wanted. Her trouble was, he thought, she didn’t know what she really wanted, and didn’t know how to stop looking.
And his own
A guilty look to his right, into the dark study. “Judy, I’d like to, really, but I’ve got a commission on the board that’s due Tuesday. And then there’s that new house for the guy over in Branchville. If I don’t finish that one pretty soon, his wife is going to have him out on his ear.”
“So? You’ve got the weekend, right?”
“Judy, I haven’t even started Tuesday’s project yet. In fact, I’m seriously beginning to wish I’d never taken it on in the first place. It’s probably going to be a waste of time.”
He could hear sounds behind her voice: tinny laughter, tinny country music from the jukebox overlaid with conversation turned babble by the number of the Depot’s early customers.
He could sense her disappointment, yet he knew that if he put off working tonight he wouldn’t get to it until Sunday. He wasn’t in danger of starving by any means, but neither was his portfolio so fat or his reputation so secure that he could afford to antagonize new contacts or customers.
“Douglas?”
A little girl’s voice, pleading and grinning. A shameless tactic she used whenever she felt him wavering, and a tactic he didn’t mind because two years ago he had decided it was possible for him to fall in love again, and Judy was one of the women he felt strongly about. One of two. After so many years, suddenly there were two. Judy had been polite and aloof, accepting his clumsy advances with good humor, and no solid rejection; then, abruptly, two weeks ago, she began making sly jokes about harnesses and yokes and rings through men’s noses.
He hadn’t questioned her turnabout, but it had started him thinking twice about what he was doing.
Because the other woman was Liz Egan, and his emotional confusion only doubled when he found himself thinking about her, a state that was increasingly hard to ignore.
He cleared his throat. “It’s important, this job, Judy.”
“Please?”
Another glance over his shoulder—the empty house, the wind. Maggie slicing the air.
“Damn your ass, Douglas Muir, if you—”
“Of course,” he said quickly, “it is only an addition. One of those solar greenhouse things for some judge over in Newton.”
“Right.”
He crossed his legs at the ankles, stretched an arm along the couch’s back and tapped a finger on the wood trim. “I mean, I guess I could let it go until tomorrow.”
A pause. “Right.”
He held out his arm and stared at the mouthpiece, then pulled it back and frowned. “Judy, is something wrong?”
“I told you,” she said with a quiet, nervous laugh. “Well, I guess I’m a little on edge, too.”
“Oh, yeah,” he said, remembering, and feeling a sympathetic twinge along his left leg. “That wind was enough to jar anyone’s teeth. I thought for a minute there Maggie was going to light out for Canada.”
“Wind? What wind? Doug, what are you talking about?”
“What . . . ?” He pointed to the window as if she could see him, dropped his hand and shook his head. “Never mind.”
“Hey, are you all right?”
“Yeah, sure. I think the pressure must be getting to me. Presidents can’t hold a candle to architects with customers who have angry wives.”
She laughed, cut herself off and asked him once again if he wouldn’t please, please fill in for Casey tonight before she went crazy and burned the place down.
“I guess,” he said. “Sure.”
“I know I’m asking a lot, but he’s acting up, real weird lately, and I’ve only got two hands, y’know? My god, you’d think he’d know better, today of all days.”
“Judy, I said I’d come, okay?”
“I tell you, Doug, that man oughta be shot, he makes me so mad. If he wasn’t so big, I’d chop him to pieces.”
Then he knew: another boyfriend had been lost in making sure Doug was the one she actually wanted. Her trouble was, he thought, she didn’t know what she really wanted, and didn’t know how to stop looking.
And his own
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